All For One or One For All
by Lynn Kroto
Summary: How far will one man go to save the one he loves? And when the choice presents itself, will all the lives be lost for one man, or will he step up, and let go of one to save them all?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Tonight's The Night

_There were no sirens, not yet. For now the smoke was clearing on its own, and the scene that had once been chaos settled into something a little darker. The wreckage was still warm, spread out over a small stretch of highway that was hardly used anymore. The glass sparkled off the pavement, bits of the metal and upholstery still burning with small flames. There were two cars, one a very large truck, still intact, sitting on the side of the road, the other was a smaller blue one, and it was everywhere. A man was standing by the car, face flushed and holding a phone to his ear and eyes scanning what he had done. The main body of the car had rolled into the middle of the road, and the glass was broken from the windshield. A few feet away was a body, small and crumpled with arms and legs sticking out at angles that weren't natural. His clothes were red, and the dark splotch around him was getting bigger. He was laying face up, dark hair singed although the color wasn't visible. His brown eyes were still open, dead and staring out into the distance. His arms and hands were scraped up from the fly from the window, but the ring on his finger still shone in the midday sun._

–

Today was a special day. Or rather, it would have been. That day would have been his 20th anniversary, twenty years happily married to the most lovely person he knew. For celebrating such an occasion, Alfred Jones was standing out in the cold afternoon breeze over a headstone in the cemetery, a large bouquet of cherry blossoms in his gloved hand. His face looked older than that of the thirty-something man he was, blue eyes heavy with bags from night spent awake and pacing his cold and empty apartment. His light brown hair was unkempt and messier than usual, and his clothes were worn and old. It had been a while since he'd gone out shopping, years. He never had the time to get out, nor the motivation.

"Hi Kiku," he said finally, dropping to his knees. "Happy anniversary." Alfred rested the flowers on the ground amongst the dead leaves. His hand touched the stone, feeling it's chill though his glove as he traced each letter lovingly. Despite only a few days having passed since he'd been there, he felt as though it were the first time he'd knelt over where Kiku lay, tears streaming down his face and staying for hours late in to the night. "I miss you." Alfred sat with his back against the headstone, hand rested over the ground where he knew his husband was sleeping peacefully. He began to talk, softly at first but eventually his voice grew to its normal strength and his demeanor became as casual as was possible when talking to a dead lover.

It was often he did this, at least three times a week if not every day. Alfred would fill Kiku on about what had been happening in the world, bringing flowers occasionally, and in the first few years, a bottle of whiskey. He would drink and cry until nightfall when the watchman would have a cab called to take him home. He hadn't done that for nine years, at least. Wallowing now tasted better sober. The sky began to grow dark, and soon the wind picked up and pushed the leaves about. It was Alfred's cue to leave, and as always he found it hard to stand and pull himself away. But he did, reluctantly enough, he had work to do back at home. He had let Kiku know what he intended to do, and hoped he would forgive him for leaving so early.

"Goodbye. I'll see you soon," he whispered, bending down and kissing the top of the headstone. As he walked down the row of graves to the gate, he turned every few steps to keep an eye on his Kiku until he passed over the hill and it was impossible to see the stone and pale pink flowers he had brought with him. Now there was only the hollow whistle of the wind and a lone man walking home.

–

It had been easy enough to dodge the glances on the way over, however the glances from those monsters inside of Alfred were impossible to ignore. All through the walk home, he kept his face down against the wind, hair and clothes whipped about yet he still kept his feet straight. He had the way from Kiku to home mapped out in his head so there was no need for surroundings. Even once he'd reached his building, a small red brick structure at the corner of two questionable streets, he didn't have to see to know how to maneuver through the lobby and up the stairs. It was the same old act, he was just going through the motions all over again.

Alfred lived on the topmost floor in a small corner apartment; a living room, a bedroom, small kitchen, and one bath. The linen closet had cost him extra. He also owned a basement under the building, one of the many that were there, and that was his most prized thing. Though not where he was heading yet, there were a few things he had to get from upstairs. Although the urgency of his task was pressuring him to hurry, he found himself pausing at his door, key an inch or so from the lock. This day had been looming in his sights for years, ever since Kiku passed, and now that he could make out every detail on the horizon, it seemed unrealistic, that he would just walk into his apartment to find empty pizza boxes and plastic bottles of cheap whiskey everywhere. But he knew that was only an ill fantasy, so he shook his head and opened the door.

His apartment was that of an obsessed man, and looked the part too. Every surface available was covered in blueprints and papers and books of all sizes. Charts and bits of scrap metal and circuit board were piled in boxes stacked one on top of the other, and the walls were plastered with drawings and diagrams of strange machines and science things, the constant C, the speed of light, stuff ordinary people would not understand. Alfred was not ordinary. He was mad and haunted like none other that walked the earth. He could see easily in the dim light, the only artificial source came from a lamp on the desk he'd accidentally left on while he's been out but that didn't matter. Literally and metaphorically he had been living in darkness for fifteen years, and now groping in the blackness seemed a second easy notion that didn't bother him. He knew it would bother Kiku.

He shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the edge of the desk chair and dropping into it. It squeaked under the sudden application of weight, shuddering a moment before adjusting and falling quiet. The slow and steady tocking of the clock on the wall fell into step with Alfred's heart, until the latter picked up the pace and the sight of the first paper on his desk. A booklet actually, handmade and covered in his own handwriting that had become dull over the years; a straight, single flowing line without the quirks its owner used to possess. It was the reflection of the dead carcass in which a lively spirit was hiding. Alfred grabbed that, stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans and scanning the desk for any other papers he would need. Finding none, he then moved though the ocean of work and papers to the other desk.

This one looked less like an editor's desk and more like that of a mechanic. There were small screws and fuses scattered over the work space, the place for pencils had screwdrivers and wire cutters, and there was even a soldering iron by the outlet in the wall. In the center of the desk was a circuit board, bits and pieces of silver and copper about the place, along with new spots of tin that's hadn't been there originally; part of Alfred's own genius. On the center of that was a button, a maze of wires branching out from under it and disappearing into the board. The all mighty and powerful "On" switch. The very last thing he needed. He knew, once that part was added to his machine, he would have Kiku again, and they would be happy.

Without a single moments hesitation, he grabbed that along with seven screws and a means to have them fixated, and once again headed towards the door. There was another pause, however, as he passed the papers desk, sentimentalism if one would. All this time he had been telling himself that this was his invention, but most of the blueprints on his walls were those of someone else. He had found them, late one night, in a box under he and Kiku's bed, behind whatever else they had stuffed under there. It had been Kiku, not completely his death but partially what he had left behind, that prompted him to learn all this and to finish such a feat. So he took to the other desk, ignore all the other things about it since they had no point now, and took what he had been looking at before heading out the door.

Alfred locked it securely behind him, glancing about the hall as he did so almost expecting to see some suspicious passersby staring at him. However there were none; no one ever walked the corridors this late at night aside from himself. He'd found that out from years of pacing in the halls in the nighttime. Back down the stairwell with its flickering and dying fluorescent lights, Alfred went down past the lobby landing and into another set of steps. These ones were darker, the air chilled and dank. However as the stairs flattened into a hall, the small noise of the generators brought to life a certain flame in Alfred and he ran the rest of the way down the hallway to the very last door. Alfred unlocked the three bolts he had placed on the door, flung it open and stepped into the dark.

At one point in time it had been a normal basement. The walls and floor were made of concrete and there was a small squat generator in the corner. The shelves had been taken down, and after Alfred had done his work, it looked to be like a store that sold machinery. The floor was as littered as that of his apartment, with spare parts and tools that were probably illegal in most states. There were scorch marks on most everything from the many accidents that had taken place every so often. In the middle of the room was it; the very thing he had been working on. His time machine.

It was a great big thing, made all of metal and mechanical parts, however the appearance was not what needed attending to. Alfred popped open the door carefully, stepping inside. Though it was dark there, he used his hand to find the square indent in the wall where the plate belonged. He found it, and held the panel to it. It fit perfectly into place, and carefully placed each screw in their respective holes before going at them with a screwdriver. He was delicate in his motions, careful not to over-tighten any one in case something broke. After the last one was done, he backed against the other wall.

He stared at it a moment. It was in the wall, the last piece to his grand puzzle. With eyes darting over to the door, Alfred slowly began to back up, watching that last panel as if, as soon as his back was turned, it would pop out again and the whole thing would short-circuit and be lost in a cloud of smoke and failure. Only after Alfred had left and closed the door was he sure of himself and his deed. Following the many cables that ran along the floor, he hurried across the room to what was supposed to be a small generator for the non-existent light bulb in the middle of the basement ceiling. There he reached out, wrapping his fingers around a cold lever, and pulled it down. It wasn't in a dramatic fashion like one would expect, rather it was done quickly and anxiously, to get the job over with.

Fifteen years of work was closed with a hum. And then a whir that got louder and louder. The machine sparked to life, colors flashing and a white glow erupting from the interior in a single flash of brilliance. The small glass dome at the stop shot light up and painted the ceiling. The noise was unbelievable yet Alfred did not cover his ears. He did not flinch away, nor did he cover his eyes to block the glorious spectacle. It was his creation, his life and body put into an animate object. It was built to work for Alfred, to bring him what he wanted most, yet now, standing below it, he felt to be the slave of this master, and that his time machine could not be controlled by anyone other than itself. This is what he'd wanted.

"Finally..." he breathed, taking a step back to look at his work. It was an impressive thing, easily a foot and a half taller than he was, and wide enough to fit five people comfortably. The whole thing was made from bits of light metal, welded and braced together with whatever odds and ends he could scrounge up. For decorative purposes, he'd gathered colored glass from here, there, and everywhere and fashioned a kind of covering for the roof. Although the application was a little sloppy, the planning had been masterful and thought out. On the inside, as Alfred slipped open the door, were circuit boards, hundreds of them, all hand picked from different machinery and fixed up to do their exact purpose. From the ceiling hung cords and cables, some thick and white, others small and covered in rubber, all connecting the machine to itself. There were buttons and switches, none labeled, but they didn't have to be. Alfred had this thing, this behemoth, seared in his brain like the manual operation of breathing.

There was no doubt in his mind that this thing would run perfectly. Everything was in its place, everything was pristine and immaculate in the queerest of senses. Alfred stepped back out again, shutting the door. He... he just had to-to _look_ at it. It and all the promises it held and everything it could fix. He could finally go back and be happy again, undo what time had done to Kiku and to himself. Alfred looked down to the photo in his hands. He'd slipped it from it's frame on the desk, and now it was going to go with him, back in time to when the man in that picture was living and breathing and warm and his. All his.

It had taken him fifteen long years to create this masterpiece, however he didn't feel he had the strength to last the journey just yet. He was dying to use it, to finally set things right. He was exhausted though, more so than usual and he felt very weak. He couldn't eat; he knew it was never good to time travel on a full stomach. There wasn't any more whiskey in the house, but there was sleep. He hadn't done that in at least a week, and for good reason. Maybe that was what he needed though, just once. Alfred would need every wit about him. It would be a dangerous journey if something went wrong. Back to the switch, he pulled it up again, and the crackling and whizzing noises died back down, and he wanted until the only thing left there was a faint heat in the air.

Walking back up the steps almost felt like treachery, but he knew he wasn't leaving Kiku behind. He was only postponing their date just a few hours longer. He reached his room, but opening the door he did not leaving the door open for light as he stepped inside. He heard papers crunch beneath his steps, stacks of books clatter when his leg brushed them. Normally this would have bothered him, however now that his masterpiece was finished, nothing mattered. He could lose all his research, all his work, because now all he needed was that time machine and the small instruction booklet he'd made in case of emergencies. That was all that mattered. That was his way to get Kiku back. It was all he had been hoping for ever since the day of the accident, and now that he could finally see it in front of him, his answer, he almost didn't believe it. He had to believe it; it was the only thing he had to hold on to now that his dear was gone.

Alfred pushed open the bedroom door with his foot, standing in the door-frame and watching as the black inside the room leeched out to grab him. Reaching one hand out, he flicked the switch on the wall and lit the room. It was spotless, a small bed in the corner with green sheets, an empty dresser with a lamp on it, and the walls were plain white, but not entirely empty. Over his bed and covering most of the rest of the room, were photographs. Over the past fifteen years, Alfred had gathered pictures of Kiku, some by himself, other with Alfred, and even other with friends he had never met before.

He carefully walked across the room, eyes scanning the many glossy pages on the wall. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, somewhere deep inside. Kiku looked so happy, smiling and laughing in the photos, his lively brown eyes bright and lips smiling. They were all his favorites, every one of them, whether he was grinning, playing, or even reading in the pictures Alfred took whist the other was oblivious to his presence. No matter how many times he would sit and gaze at them, long into the night, the fifteen years felt like an eternity. Alfred tore himself away, looking at the carpet as he walked up to the bed. The sheets were cold and clean, not having been slept on in such a long while.

That was the worst part about sleeping now a days; he was always alone. He would never get used to that. Before there had always been someone to snuggle with, to kiss, to talk to, someone to play silly nighttime games with when sleep became impossible to manage. That was gone. Alfred sunk into the mattress slowly, embracing the cold and empty feeling that made him hurt. All he could think about was Kiku, and how full of life he had been, their month long trip to Vancouver where Alfred popped the question and the look in his eyes, how beautiful he had looked up on that altar in Florence. It was all too overwhelming. He rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow and closing his eyes. No matter how hard he tried though, the memories kept reaching the front of his mind, and as soon as he fell into unconsciousness, they took over, and Alfred dreamed of the day he found his beloved Kiku was dead.

–

_ "Mr. Jones?"_

_ "Yes this is he," Alfred replied, tuning and resting against the counter. The voice at the other end coughed._

_ "My name is Zidler, and I work at the Red Swan Morgue." His heart jumped in his chest, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter._

_ "Yes?" he prompted. There was more coughing, nervous this time._

_ "We need you to come downtown whenever would be most convenient for you. There's a body that needs identified." Alfred jumped from where he was leaning, eyes popping from his head._

_ "A body? Whose?" _

_ "Why, your husband's, of course." Zidler sounded confused. "I thought the police told you that still needed to be cleared up. And while you're down here, there's of course going to be the choice of burial or cremation. Since you're the only family listed in your husband's records, you'll..." But the rest of his words were completely drowned out as the phone slipped from Alfred's hand. It crashed on the floor, and Zidler began to ask what on earth was going on. Alfred didn't hear him. The blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was racing so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all. That was impossible! There was no way his Kiku could be dead. He wouldn't let that happen. And although self-will was nice, he had to see for himself._

_ It was hard to drive out into town in the state he was in. His driving was always a little erratic, but it was ten times worse. He ran several red lights and every stop sign. All that was going through his mind was thoughts about Kiku, worry, fear. There was no way he could be dead. No, he had himself convinced, Kiku was fine. He was at his meeting like he was supposed to be, and it was only another man that looked like his husband. However as he pulled into the parking lot, a sudden shot of fear filled him. Kiku had said he would call from the road. He said he would call, and he always did! Maybe there were traffic delays, or his phone had no battery._

_ Those two small thoughts were the only thing that he could cling to has he tried parking the car straight, but his hands were shaking too badly to make the wheel turn properly. That however didn't matter. He left the car where it was, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and bolted inside. The bell above the glass door clinked, and he entered a smallish room that appeared to be a waiting room. On the other side was a hall behind a long wooden desk where stood a man, looking at a stack of papers. He was middle-sized with a clean-shaved face and lively green eyes. There was a name tag on his white office gown that read "H. Zidler: Red Swan Coroner." Alfred hurried over, glancing at those in the chairs, waiting for some reason or another. They were staring at him, however he paid them no mind and instead walked straight up to the man. _

_ "Where is Kiku?" Alfred's voice was distraught and frantic, and it showed in his wide eyes as well._

_ "Ah! Mr. Jones, I take it?" Zidler asked._

_ "Where is my Kiku?" he repeated more frenzied than before._

_ "Room thirty-seven, down the hall on th-" But he was already long gone at a full sprint. He had never felt more scared in his life, except for maybe when he was down on one knee years ago, for Kiku. He was too rushed to apologize when he ran into an assistant, brushing by and flying around the corner. His sneakers made a squeaking noise as he skidded to a stop at the door labeled 37. It was closed, and there was a single light on inside. Alfred turned the handle and flung open the door, staring wildly around the room, until his eyes rested on the table at the middle, and he stopped._

–

Alfred woke in a cold sweat, bolting up and staring into the darkness around him. It was thick and suffocating, and for a moment he felt the constricting fear that had been ever present in his dream and the time when that had happened. He grabbed onto the thin and scratchy sheets and yanked them around himself tightly. Tears gathered into his eyes and they tumbled over his cheeks. But no, he had to pull himself together. Now he had the power to change that, now he could go back and fix everything. And it was then he decided that he had to go right then, or else he would completely lose his mind. There was no way he could sleep, not with those thoughts battling his sanity in his brain. Yes, now was the right moment to save Kiku.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Welcome To: Gondwana, Pangaea Super Continent, Earth

Back down to the basement, and into his room, Alfred was practically at a sprint the entire way. He could feel the adrenaline wake him up and get him moving again, and somewhere inside him a spark flicked and lit motivation inside his heart. Kiku. Everything Alfred remembered about him, his face, his smile, the way he walked, the way he blushed, how he could make Alfred smile when he felt like dying. Everything made him move. He wanted that back so bad, it was almost selfish. And this time, he really didn't care.

The sound of the time machine booting up again was music to his ears. In reality, he had no idea how loud it really was, or if he was waking anyone in the building up, but Alfred didn't care about that either. The lights danced around the darkened room, sparks shot and scarred the walls one last time before Alfred pulled open the door and stepped inside. The pressure plate had had put on the floor noticed his weight, and the machine calmed, and the once dark interior it up with electricity. The clear tubes overhead suddenly had white-purple light coursing through them and the many switches and buttons on the wall lit red and yellow.

Against the back wall was a keypad and a small screen, where Alfred stood, staring at it for the longest moment. It was the place to put one's desired time to return to. The place was predetermined, for the time machine would simply appear at the place where it had been built, regardless of the century. Alfred had done his research already. This basement, fifteen years ago, was empty, therefor he didn't have to worry about causing too much of a ruckus. He would then take a cab home, and save Kiku. That was the way this was going to work. He had had it planned in his head, years before the thing was even complete. Alfred reached his hand out, determined, but his fingers seemed heavy as he slowly typed in the letters and numbers that would take him home.

_May 16__th__, 1989_

Just typing that made his head hurt, his chest ache, and try as he might he couldn't help the feeling. Importance was there as well, and instead of soaking in the lonely feeling he acted on that impending sense of standing and moved to the left wall where the "On" button was, essentially. There wasn't a dramatic pause this time either, just a hand against the button. After a small pause full of uncertainty, the time machine pulled itself to life. The floor shook, and not long after the generator's hum had started, the entire thing began to make a chorus of different noises, and Alfred couldn't help but turn a few circles to wonder at this colossus of a thing. That sound, the sight of the machine, was the most amazing he had even heard and seen before, so satisfying. He closed his eyes a brief moment to relish in his success. For the first time in fifteen years he did not feel totally helpless to Kiku's passing. He had control.

The downhill slide began with a sudden stop in the shuddering, before it started back up again. A rattling noise became evident inside the machine, and Alfred began to get nervous. Granted he hadn't tried running it before and didn't know if that was a good or bad sign, but it was too sickly a noise to ignore. Alfred pulled the booklet out of his back pocket, flipping to the middle bit where he was sure the answer to the sound would be. He expected it to be a simple mis-oiling of the side gears near the bottom. But his reading was interrupted as the thing groaned. He knew for sure that was bad, but instead of shutting down, the machine whined, and one of the thick cables above his head snapped in two. Sparks shot out of both ends as they whipped about, and then things were thrown into a chaotic mess. Alfred was trying everything in the booklet, anything he could think of, to make the thing stop. But it kept going, noises getting louder and sounding mush less healthy. The buttons and lights were flickering out of control, and suddenly the hiss of the pressure system came on.

"Dammit!" Alfred exclaimed, throwing down the booklet because he was finding it useless. He quickly moved to the back wall, staring at the small square where the date was supposed to be. The numbers and letters were changing and flipping between unknown dates, and no matter how many times Alfred banged on the buttons, they wouldn't work. It was then he was sure he was going to die; the time machine shuddering again, the clanking of the walls being drowned out by the unimaginable noises coming from everywhere else. More things above him snapped and sparks singled his skin. Crouching in one of the corners, Alfred drew his knees up and wrapped his arms over his head with the picture of that familiar face clutched in his fingers.

–

_His eyes were closed, that was the first thing Alfred noticed. His eyes were closed and his face was peaceful. The man on the table, under the white sheet up to his waist, body covered in marks. There was the surgical scar from the autopsy, and others that were clearly road-rash from the car accident. He had black hair, brunt at the edges and sticking out strangely from his head. The limbs had been fixed, but there was evidence of crude, temporary stitching done by the coroner. The light in the room cast strange shadows from the equipment over the body, but no shadow covered the ring, that still shone, hardly tarnished from the accident at all._

_ Alfred only stared. Shock had set in. This...was not the man he loved. No, it couldn't be, he wasn't dead! Kiku could not be __dead. But... The face of the man on the table, his lips, the curves of his body, they were all so familiar. Alfred's footsteps sounded impossibly loud against the tile floor as he carefully made his way over. He believed hard enough that as long as he didn't touch the body, it wouldn't be Kiku. But the voice had already started nagging in the back of his brain, and as soon as Alfred reached out, the voice shrieked at him. _It is him! i_t called loudly, and Alfred suddenly snapped his arm out and grabbed the hand of the man on the table. The skin was cold and clammy, not warm and soft like it used to be. Their fingers fit perfectly together, and when he squeezed Kiku's hand, he half expected the corpse to squeeze back. He didn't._

_ Denial quickly turned into something else in half a second. He felt his stomach fly to his feet, and his heart was on fire with something cold and stinging that hurt his entire body. He held Kiku's hand tighter, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. He turned the fingers over in his palm, inspecting the ring. Alfred could still imagine it in the small velvet box, those big brown eyes awake and alive. Alfred's other hand slipped over Kiku's bare chest; skin cold and smooth and lifeless. He bent over the table and covered Kiku's lips with his own. They were still soft but they didn't taste like they used to, being almost metallic, if Alfred had to put a specific thing there. His brain though, had no idea what it was, only that is wasn't the same. That Kiku wasn't living anymore._

_ "Kiku..." He crawled up onto the cold metal table, wrapped both arms around the body and pulled Kiku onto his lap. He knew he wasn't supposed to do that, but it was his Kiku, he knew what he was doing. "Kiku." He held the man tighter and closer, craning his neck down and burying his face in his husband's hair. "_Kiku._" Alfred's voice clawed it's way out of his throat, getting louder and blistering the silence. "Kiku!" In the middle of the word, the intended shout turned into a deep sob, and tears leaked under Alfred's glasses and dropped onto the male he was holding. The lost feeling inside him swelled and emotion boiled over in hot tears. "Kiku..."_

–

Alfred was shaken from his memory when the floor dropped out from beneath him, and the walls on all sides vanished and he was exposed to the world outside his time machine. Alfred was falling through the air locked with mist, wind blowing past him. Something told him he wasn't that far off the ground even though it felt that way. Sure enough, just seconds after the time machine bailed on him, he smacked belly-first into something slimy and cold. It turned out to be mud, and Alfred gasped for breath as the wind had knocked it out of him. He felt a warm trail of blood gush from his nose and his glasses were crooked and spattered with the sloppy soil. Groaning, he lifted himself painfully on scratched and red palms, looking from under dirty blonds bangs to see where he was.

The first thing he noticed was the sky, or rather lack of. The trees were so tall that not a speck of blue or gray was visible. Heck, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night because the leaves (which were about the size of a grown man's head, and bigger) were blocking out everything. He seemed to be laying on some kind of primitive track, barely beaten and surrounded by the trees, along with large ferns, rotting logs covered in mosses and fungi, and exotic looking flowers. The other life around was just as new, and frankly, kind of terrifying.

Alfred scrambled up, causing dark spot to appear in his vision, but more desperate was the need to get out of the way of a very large dragonfly whirring down the path. It was easily as big as a small dog, with glossy wings as long as his arms. It hummed, hovered a bit before shooting back into the trees. Slowly, afraid of that thing coming back, Alfred emerged from the ferns, staring after it. What on earth had that been? And looking around, where the hell was his time machine?

Panic begin to set in. This was not where he was supposed to end up. He was supposed to be in an empty basement! And this was definitely _not_ an empty basement, unless its owner had a secret fetish for botany and even then that was an immense stretch. Yet as he walked slowly on the path, listening to the strange calls echoing in the distance, seeing more bugs that were much too large, and hearing what sounded like roars off in the distance, he became more and more aware of where he was. In a forest, and guessing from his vast knowledge of television and those old dinosaur movies, some time in the Jurassic period, several million years ago. He had originally though, after realizing where he was, he would be able to relax. Alfred was now finding that was not true.

Millions of years.

He had been off by _millions _of years. And on top of being in a strange and extremely dangerous place, he had no means to get back home because his time machine had gone somewhere else. Fifteen years ago, or now it would be a time in the _very_ distant future, he would have laughed and made a sarcastic remark to himself. Not this time. This time he was terrified. His fingers clutches the photo tighter as Alfred rammed both hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was beginning to feel exposed, as if thousands of eyes were watching him from the holes in the trees, the dark patches between ferns, and the distance where things got foggy. His head remained on a constantly moving swivel ans his legs moved faster until he felt compelled to run. But he didn't because the paranoia was still there. He knew things would chase after something that ran.

His steady pace was interrupted when he stepped with his left foot and it landed somewhere deeper than ground level by a few inches. After recovering from the stumble, Alfred looked down. It was still mud, and the shape of the indent only became visible when he stepped back. The breath he would have exhaled got stuck somewhere in his throat. The thing he had stepped in was a track, a print of _something's_ foot. If Alfred didn't know any better, this impression in the mud looked like... a tyrannosaurus footprint. Upon further inspection, he found that yes, it was most definitely the foot of the very large reptile thing with big-ass teeth. His stomach was clutched with dry anxiety. The hope that he had landed in an uninhabited trot of land vanished like smoke and his legs tried to run but he had to know better. He had to control himself or else he would really be eaten.

The perpetual fear was there even when the trees began to thin out, and he could indeed see sky. It was light blue, an almost off shade compared to the 21st century skies, with a few lazy stretches of clouds and weak sun that penetrated through the treetops. That wasn't a consolation either. In fact it seemed to make things worse because now Alfred felt like he had a spotlight following him around. And he certainly did stick out from the dark greens and ruddy browns with his blue jeans and red t-shirt, even though they were spattered with mud and the blood that was ceasing its flow from his nose finally. His gray sneakers made squelching noises that seemed to echo through the air and draw attention to himself, and he glanced behind to see his trail of small prints alongside the monstrous ones that he had been following. It was only a short while later that the ground went from mud to dirt, and soon it turned out into a cliff and gave way to a steep drop. Alfred slowed to a walk, and from there went on his hands and knees and crawled forward. He looked over the cliff, and down straight into a National Geographic show.

Alfred was looking down into a valley, with a large waterfall off to his left and a river flowing down the middle before disappearing into another forest at least a mile down the way. The clearing in between the cliff and the next patch of trees was covered in bright green grass, rocks of assorted shapes and sizes, and dinosaurs. Everywhere. Big and tall ones with long necks in grays and blues, munching on the leaves and walking around in herds. There were ones by the water, with longer noses and a crest on the back, fishing for algae and weeds at the bottom. There were others too, some Alfred didn't even know existed, meandering around. In the sky flew pterodactyls, screeching and diving through the air. One swooped dangerously close to Alfred's spot, and he moved to avoid being skewered by a giant beak. He fell backwards onto his rear end, skittering back into the ferns and pulling a large leaf in front of him.

"Oh shit..."

Oh shit was right. With another rumbling roar from one of the many beasts, the idea he might never be getting home, to either future, was beaten into his skull. If only he knew where his time machine was, but until then he was stuck here, with no other humans, and too many monsters. He chanced another step back to the edge. Underneath the terrifying outside, the place was rather beautiful and mysterious, and Alfred stopped to notice it for just a few moments. After all, it wasn't every day people got to see dinosaur bones walking around and covered in skin and muscle.

It was then he suddenly became aware of his hands. A strange thing to notice, but the touch of a slightly wrinkled photo in his palm had melded in with his skin while he was frightened. He pulled it out, smoothing it against his jeans in an attempt to remove the crinkles. Kiku's face was still recognizable, and for a moment all the creases seemed to have worn themselves around him, only occupying the spaces of the photo where he wasn't. Alfred then remembered the lore that Kiku had told him, about a photograph having the capability to capture part of one's soul. Trying to contain giggles at the thought of what happened when a ginger was photographed (because that seemed rather inappropriate given the moment), he turned so the plain side was facing him and the picture was looking out into the valley.

"Look where we are, Kiku..." He knew that his husband would have loved to see this. Anyone would have, but more so Kiku. It was exactly the kind of place he would love to go, despite the fact that it was dangerous. Maybe that's why he would have loved it. Alfred had heard that habits and ideas often rubbed of on one's marital partner, and it would have been no surprise. Kiku often told him he was contagious. Speaking to himself in such a manner, that was just in his head, Alfred thought of two things. One, he was definitely crazy and lonely for talking to himself. Two, the way which he thought about Kiku now seemed more a recitation of facts than some emotional undertaking like it had been for so long.

Part of that scared him. Like he was forgetting even though he said he would never forget. It was not his way of coping, it hadn't been ever since Kiku came around. Alfred was afraid he was fading, that Kiku's fingerprints were getting rubbed off of his skin. Mother Nature must have thought that was true, because she called up a huge gust of wind and some storm clouds. It was so sudden that the photo was ripped from Alfred's hands. The man panicked, chasing it along the side of the cliff. He snatched at it a few more times, but it was already carried away by the wind, and then by a _huge _scaly monster. Alfred backed up, watching as the pale orange pterosaur flew by it and caught the flying bit of photo paper in his claws. It began to circle over him, obviously wanting to investigate the origin of such strange object. Alfred glared, watching as it went from the top of the treetops to almost level with the cliff's edge.

"Goddammit you over-grown featherless pigeon! Give it back!" As it flew low again, as if to mock Alfred, the human took a leap off the cliff and towards the pterodactyl. By some strange spot of luck, he narrowly avoided falling down the side of the valley through many pointy rocks and managed to grab onto the clawed feet of the beast. This was obviously a new sensation to the dinosaur, who had never felt human skin before, and it screeched. Alfred was whipped through the air as the monster dived and pulled up rapidly, trying to rid itself of this strange new thing that was clinging on for dear life. He felt like his arms were being yanked out of his socket and he knew he had to let go, but the fall was terrifying and that damn dinosaur still had his picture.

Today, despite being definitely _not_ his day, Alfred seemed to have a fair amount of luck in his endeavors. His fingers clutched at the photo, and despite his skin being cut on the sharp talon things, he was able to worm it out and hold it close. Now he was still in the predicament of still being at least thirty feet above the ground with cut hands and sore shoulders. Looking down, he felt insanely dizzy, but it was good that he did so because he could tell the ground was getting closer. At a dangerously fast rate.

Seizing advantage of the moment, Alfred let go as soon as he gauged it safe to do so. He was much higher up than he had anticipated though, and he went tumbling to the ground and skidding across the grass. There was green burn on his forearms and green stains all down his front, but thank god he hadn't been knocked unconscious because the flying dinosaur was still going. It perched itself on a very large rock, crying loudly and flapping its wings. Battered and frankly quite pissed, Alfred backed up only to reach down and pick up a rock as big as a softball. He flung it at the pterodactyl as hard as he could, and it smashed against the chest of the beast.

The noise it made this time was much louder and much scarier than the other that it sent Alfred reeling back onto his ass. But instead of attacking and eating his face off with those sharp little teeth in its beak like he had expected, it took back off into the sky with more awful noises. He was sure that he hadn't pissed it off too much, and that retreating behind yet another large rock would be enough to keep it from coming back down. But he watched as the thing whirled into the skies, mixing amongst the others before Alfred could no longer tell who was the ringleader. But it didn't matter much anymore, seeing as they were already swooping into the valley as one collective unit.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Reptiles Aren't Your Friends

Now under normal circumstances, this would have been very easily avoided by not pestering the thing in the first place. But on top of not being normal, Alfred wouldn't consider this an ordinary situation, not by a long shot. And because he could no longer pick the easy way out, he had to deal with a flock of angry reptilian flying things. His brain, naturally, couldn't come up with a reaction for this. _No previous information_, his brain was telling him. Which is why he stood, frozen, until the things were feet away and approaching fast. Common sense butted in and told him to get the hell out of there. Alfred happily obliged.

He had no idea where the hell he was running to, except away from the things that wanted to eat him. For the moment he had forgotten he was in a valley _full_ of things that would want to eat or trample him, and it was only until he ran headfirst into something hard and rough that he remained blissfully ignorant of all the other terror. And then it crashed down on him so hard. He had the moment, seeing as the flying dinosaurs had been temperately confused in the set of large rocks and were still looking for him, to look up and see what he had run into, and Alfred did not like what he saw.

Cutting sideways, he barely avoided the huge leg of one of the long-necked creatures as it swung out in defense at being touched by an unknown object. This sudden movement attracted the notice of one of the pterodactyls and he screeched to alert the others. The chase having started again and Alfred realizing that no matter where he ran in this valley he would be in danger of death, his feet darted underneath the belly of the dinosaur he had upset and retreated back to the cliff from whence he had come. From what he recalled there had been no danger there, at least not immanent, so that seemed like a better place than any.

However the problem was getting there. The flying beasties had caused such a racket, that now all the other living things in the valley found a reason to get upset and start panicking as well. So there was a pack of angry ones, and everything else, including Alfred, was thrown into confusion. The air became alive with noises, shrieks and caws and bellows and roars, and it was so loud Alfred was afraid his eardrum would rupture. He didn't even bother to cover his ears though, because that wasn't what he was scared of. It was the limbs. Archosaurian reptiles were running all over the place, and all of them, or a good majority, were very much larger than he was.

This fact alone propelled him to run faster than he ever had, dodging huge legs and swinging tails, catching every stumble so he wouldn't fall and be crushed. But at the moment there was no where to run. Everywhere he looked there was reptilian chaos and no where safe. Until he looked again for those relentless chasers, and saw that cliff he had been standing on, and the forest behind it. If he could only get up there, he might be able to evade those fuckers and be left alone so he could find his time machine again. It took him all of two minutes of more scrambling to find the base because he was so desperate, and began to tear his way up.

It wasn't smart, because that gave the pterodactyls better space to catch him, but they seemed to be confused in the mess of reptiles and for the moment he was fine. But he still climbed like hell because he didn't want them to notice he'd gone up there. He dug his fingers into the crumbling rocks, feeling dirt get pushed beneath his nails and shards scratch his palms, but he was able to pull himself up to the top with very minimal new bodily damage. And he couldn't stop there, no sir. He hauled himself to his feet on the muddy ledge and headed back for the woods at breakneck speed. As much as he would have liked to look back down into that valley, and see the change that he had caused, there were more pressing issues at the time.

The strangling, suffocating fear that had been present the first time he had tramped though the woods was absent, and he hardly noticed the insects and other oddities as he sprinted away. He could feel his legs growing heavy, though, and knew the burst of adrenaline was running out. It was unfortunate, but Al did listen to his protesting muscles and slowed to a jog. Maybe those things had left him alone, and found some other helpless beastie to chase. The trees were still thin, and the sky was starting to turn gray. And it was from that sky that the call of death reached his ears again.

"Come _on_!" Al groaned, but he didn't have much time to complain further because he was moving again. The path he had been on before was still slick and muddy, and despite the trees, the reptiles were very good at following close to the ground. He found himself now struggling to keep a fast pace, the lactic acid having built up in his legs and his feet were beginning to get stupid and catch on rocks and pits. A bend appeared at the edges of the fog, and Alfred pushed towards that. Just one step at a time, he had to get away.

But around that corner was something that would make things so much harder than easier. The mud had given way to a drier dirt, and the pits in the path had gotten bigger. _So_ much bigger, and they were filled with thick black goo that bubbled and spat angrily. It appeared to have killed all the plants and life around it, for the greenery had retreated to leave a clearing. It was like setting up a big neon sign over Al's head. The reptiles again appeared in his vision. They were smaller in number, but still just as threatening. Weary legs or not, Al rushed through the mess of pits, being mindful of the edges as so not to fall in and REALLY have a problem.

The tar was splattered everywhere, sticking to his shoes and often times the sole was so stuck he almost tripped. However a new source of motivation had presented itself, and that was something tall and dark in the very near distance. Not scary tall and dark, but familiar. The slopes of a mountain were just within reach, and maybe he could make it there and find a place to ditch the bastards. Another angry glob of tar bubbled over from one pit, oozing over onto Al's shoes. It was unbearably hot and sticky, but lurching and pulling, he yanked free and hurried away. The dirt beaten circle ended, but not the endless torment from his flighted enemies. Now they just seemed to enjoy his fear, diving but never getting close enough to pose any real danger to Al's person. Of course that didn't matter to the American, he just kept going, into the new set of woods, ground rocky and sloping upwards until...

A cave.

Yes. Safety. He made full headway for that, that single rock-beam of hope, darting inside in hopes those things wouldn't follow. The air of the cavern was cool, washing over his hot and cut skin and freezing the sweat to his body. He quickly slowed to a walk to allow his lungs to take in air, deep breaths of invigorating air, and headed a few more yards back into the cave, just to be safe. The things hadn't followed him in, but Al could hear them. His breath was ragged, echoing through the cave and bouncing off the walls.

He could have sworn they could hear him outside, so he stayed perfectly still and didn't move. The space around him magnified the clicking of sets of claws just outside, and each bellow strained against his ear drums. He dared not move further back into the dank, cool space in case his shoes made a noise their little lizard ears would detect. He could feel his heart slowing down, the pumping ceasing to be the predominant cacophony in his brain. Al held his arms straight by his side and pressed himself into a cool wall, trying hard not to make noise and focus on the shuffling and cawing from outside.

And that died off, soon enough, in a loud sweep of sudden screeches and scratches as the pterodactyls pushed themselves away from the cave's entrance. Alfred was stunned; they were leaving just like that? He tip-toed to the mouth of the rock, and saw their silhouettes flapping away into the clouds. They were screeching and cawing like mad birds, and Al saw no further reason to panic. He let out a sigh of relief and collapsed to the ground. He was sweaty and muddy and gross, but no longer in danger for the time being. Again smoothing out the wrinkles in the picture, he fondly gazed at it and swore it would never leave his hands again. Kiku's face was scratched a bit and speckled with mud and Alfred focused so much on carefully removing the mud that he didn't notice when things around him began to change.

The first thing he noticed was the ceasing of the refreshing breeze and the noise it made in the leaves. In fact, all the noise had gone away- the rumble of the reptiles, the buzzing of insects. Al stood slowly, tucking the photo into his pocket and looking around. He could see nothing but trees and the tar pits. Looking left and right, he found a small path winding up, and that's where his feet took him. He walked a short, steep ways until his head was just above the trees and he was again aligned with the path to see straight to the cliff and down into the valley.

The clearing was empty. All the dinosaurs were gone, and few could be seen in the skies. The man's brow furrowed. This couldn't be right, something had to be up. Then the ground shook slightly, and Al's nerves clenched at the bracing for an earthquake. But it was only a small tremor and then it died off, only to be replaced with more shaking a ways off. The trees at the other end of the valley quivered and from them burst at least twenty small, fast-moving objects, headed his way and they looked as if they weren't going to stop. He squinted, trying to see exactly what they were, but his heart had already started to race, knowing the reptilian terror was on its way again.

Far away as they had seemed at first, the mass was getting closer and soon they reached the cliff with no signs of stopping. Al tore off into the cave, despite not knowing how deep it was or if it would provide good cover, or if the things were even going to enter the cave in the first place. But it was better they didn't see him if they only had intentions of passing by. Alfred could no longer see where he was going and slowed, hands in front to feel for a wall. His feet found a stone before his hands found a safe niche, and he went down hard.

His head took a blow, and he dared not stand in case he blacked out. The skrees of the little dinosaurs were echoing though the cave, and he couldn't tell if they were just at the mouth or already inside. Crawling with one hand out, Al touched a smooth wall and huddled against it, waiting for the throbbing of his head to go away. He was exposed and couldn't escape and being helpless was the worst feeling. He could hear the feet scrabbling against the stone, and he slammed his hands over his ears. He didn't want to hear what was coming.

–

_ "Where do you think you're going?" Al asked, looking a little startled when Kiku lept from his napping place on the couch._

_"A meeting," he replied, picking his keys up off the end-table. They jingled between his fingers._

_ "A meeting?" Alfred looked confused, following Kiku to the door. "What on earth for?" He pulled the smaller's jacket from the rack, holding it out._

_ "For a new branch we're planning on launching. Unfortunately it can't wait." Kiku turned and allowed Alfred to help him into the dark colored coat before fiddling with the zipper. Hands stopped his, and Alfred and Kiku watched each other's eyes as the taller zipped his jacket halfway up._

_ "I'll miss you," he said serenely. The smaller of the two smiled and placed both hands on Alfred's shoulders._

_ "It's only two hours. You won't even notice me gone," Kiku replied, but Al wrapped both arms around the smaller's back and dragged him into a kiss. Of course he would notice, and he would practically sulk until Kiku got back. He could feel the smaller's mouth vibrate with a little laugh, and he let go. Just as quickly he had slipped out of Al's arms into the garage, and the sound of a car engine rattled the house. Alfred hurried to the front door, swinging it open to stand on the porch to see Kiku off._

_ The small ar pulled out of the garage, engine humming. Alfred smiled, leaning against the rail and holding up his hand. Kiku's smiling face was still visible from behind the tinted windshield, and he waved back and then blew a kiss. The taller grinned, dropping his hand and stood watching as their blue car pulled out of the driveway and disappeared around the street corner._

–

If he had known. God if only he had known.

If Alfred had known what was going to go down on that back road, he would have done one of two things.

One: He would have stopped Kiku. At any rate, with anything he could have thought up in that small three second window as Kiku drove away. He wasn't feeling too stable, there was a pain in his right side. Hell, even the want for midday sex probably would have worked. _Probably_. Which was the worst part of it all. He had no idea what to do when he got back. All he knew is he would stop Kiku, he just hadn't thought through the how yet. He was scared, more than anything, that he would blow his second chance, and have to live through it all over again. But to that he had created in his subconscious another plan; foolproof, straightforward, and simple. This was the second thing.

He would have gone with.

He wouldn't have hesitated to climb right in that car and drive into that crash if he knew he was going to be living without Kiku, or if nothing else had worked. Ideally they would both be getting out alive, so they could keep being alive and together, but if that wasn't an option, the only one Alfred would be picking was the one where they both die. Together still, just maybe not as they had been. At first it made him terrified once he became fully aware of this fact, but after a few years, it was a comfortable fantasy he found himself dreaming about at night. Because death, at that point, was so much easier and convenient than living. But he had obligations, and the idea of another shot was so much more temping. And that's what had brought them together after all, a temptation in the form of a blind date set up by his brother Matthew and a friend of Kiku's. It felt fitting to end it the way it started, and there was no other way he would have had it.

Now sitting on the top of that list of ways he did _not_ want things to end was being ripped to pieces by small angry reptiles. Fore-mostly because it meant he would never exist, and the thought of Kiku with someone else had always seemed very strange to him. Granted Kiku's whole life course would be changed, as would the lives of everyone Alfred knew, but maybe he would still make it out of that day. There was also the fact he would be _ripped apart by lots of little teeth and claws_ that had a lot to do with it.

His head had cleared, and he stood slowly as so not to draw attention to himself. He could hear the reptiles scrabbling around, looking for food, which could be him in a few moments. His hands slid silently along the wall and his feet followed, and he made sure to watch behind him in case a stray found him. His movement became quicker and quicker as he could hear the noises get closer, however he had known it was only a matter of time before they caught up and saw him. And one curious little head did, tipping this way and that, and making noises to signal the rest of the pack.

Alfred stopped moving and faced it. He knew staring it in the face would be a challenge, but he took a deep breath and stepped away from the wall. He raised his hands and spread his legs apart, making himself as big as possible. He knew this tactic worked on bears, but dinosaurs, he wasn't so sure. The rest had gathered behind the first reptile, and were all hissing. It was taking all his strength to not turn and run, but after the creatures became curious and approached him with more , Al had to back up. After seeing the thing before them was not as large as they had thought, the raptors began closing in.

Alfred ran. So what if their little legs could go faster than his? He had to get out of there, and he found his way out not two yards later when the tunnel ended in a stone wall about six foot high ledge. There, above his head, was the time machine, dark and humming away. How the hell it got there was beyond him, but at that moment Alfred was happier to see it than when it was first built. Al launched himself upwards and caught the ledge with his fingertips and forced all his energy into his arms to hoist himself to safety. He could feel claws scratching at him, catching and cutting denim and skin and the adrenaline from pain pushed him up on the ledge.

The raptors were crying nosily, trying to stand on top of one another to get to the moving snack. Alfred didn't give them time to make a scaly pyramid and eat him alive. He flung open the doors and pulled himself inside. His hand slammed against the on button and he let himself fall to the floor as the machine wound itself up and was pulled into darkness.


End file.
